


without you (there is no me)

by rainshowers



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Alternate Universe, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Hannibal Extended Universe, Hannibal is Not a Cannibal, Kingsman AU, M/M, Mutual Pining, OOC, Oblivious Will, Partners in love, Sharing a Bed, bear with me as i try to jam all the clichéd fic tropes i like, hannibal has long brown hair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 03:26:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16925604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainshowers/pseuds/rainshowers
Summary: Will heard Hannibal sigh, followed by a few soft clicks from where Hannibal was facing, before the man allowed himself to turn and face him. Hannibal skimmed his eyes from Will’s feet to his face, his cold exterior unchanging.“Congratulations on passing the Kingsman training program, Agent Galahad.”or simply:a hannigram kingsman au where hannibal and will are agents tristan and galahad on an undercover mission as nigel and adam.





	without you (there is no me)

Will Graham officially died at twenty-three years old.

As far as he was concerned, though, his past life had pretty much ended two years ago when he had nothing but a small pendant clutched tightly to his chest to remind him of home and his dogs—back when was detained and falsely accused of illegal possession of prohibited drugs in a foreign country where he was supposed to find his biological father.

Until now, he could still smell the atmosphere from that day. It was a day of embarrassment, a day of repentance, a day of realization, and above all, it was the day he thought he had finally laid eyes on an angel—if an angel was a long-haired man in his late twenties wearing a neatly tailored suit with two parallel horizontal scars under his right eye and called himself ‘Hannibal Lecter’.

Or, as he was known within the confines of this building as, _Tristan_.

As it turned out, that angel was not the angel that he was pretending to be. He was more of a Satan reincarnate. The man wasted no time making his life a living hell from the moment they had reached their headquarters. He belittled him, openly mocked him in front of the other trainees, and he made sure to do everything in his power to push him to his limits.

To put it in layman’s term: Hannibal was a fucking asshole.

Someone close to him cleared their throat discreetly, presumably the man he was just thinking about, and it snapped him out of his reverie. He sat upright, tugging at his coat, and looked at the head of the table where Arthur was speaking.

“...in which he has showcased himself to be worthy of such honor,” Arthur said, eyes dancing around the table before finally settling down onto his face, his expression unreadable as usual. The man raised his whiskey toward his direction, “Welcome to Kingsman, Galahad.”

The agents raised all their glasses, it was nice to see them all in flesh and not in a hologram as his previous encounters with them were, and Will or ‘Galahad’—his newly inherited name seemed to send waves of pride throughout his entire body—stood up. He tipped his head slightly at Arthur, trying his best to hold the eye-contact for a few seconds, before raising his glass. “Rus.”

“Rus,” the men cheered calmly, maintaining their posh demeanor as they collectively drank the contents of their glasses in one fluid motion. The rest were all dismissed after his introduction, most of the other agents hurriedly went to either the tunnel or to their own private jets to carry about with their businesses, leaving him, Hannibal, Merlin the Tech Expert, and Arthur to go over and discuss their first mission together as partners.

“The sole purpose of your mission is to scout, not to engage. Tristan, since you’re well-acquainted with this kind of mission, I’m entrusting you to guide Galahad...”

As Arthur discussed the minute details of their mission, Will peeked to his left and looked at the man sitting beside him, curious to see if there was any change in Hannibal’s stoic expression now that his recruit was the Chosen One™.

Instead of just a quick glance, however, Will found himself staring as the agent scrolled on his tablet. Hannibal was wearing a matching three-piece maroon-colored plaid suit, a white wide tie with maroon prints, a white undershirt, and half of his brown, shoulder-length hair was neatly tied up while a small but visible three-strand braid adorned the space behind his right ear as if he was rocking Thor’s hair from The Dark World. His cheekbones seemed more prominent than usual and Will noted the hardened muscles under Hannibal’s suit.

He wouldn’t say this out loud, or to any other living soul ever, but the man looked like a masterpiece without even trying.

“Any questions you want to raise, Galahad?”

Arthur’s deep voice reverberated throughout the room and Will forced himself to tear his eyes away from Hannibal to answer his superior’s question with a polite shake of his head. “None, sir.”

“Good,” Arthur said after looking back and forth between them. Their bad blood was not a secret to either Arthur, the rest of the tech experts, and staff and frankly, Will himself was surprised at the outcome of the program. Arthur roused from his seat and motioned at both of them. “The submarine will be ready by tomorrow morning. For now, go get some rest while you can. Dismissed.”

Both of them thanked Arthur and Will silently followed Hannibal to the empty underground corridors of the headquarters to pack their things. They entered another automated door and strolled past the glass windows overlooking a vast cockpit filled with jets and other vehicles until they finally reached the accessory room for agents.

Apart from their suitcases, there was a large couch on the corner of the room in front of the large fish tank where Will flopped himself down gracelessly, stripping himself of the façade that he had to present in front of the other agents.

“A congratulations would be nice to hear from you, you know,” he said, unbuttoning his coat and pouring himself a glass of whiskey inside the arm of the sofa. He looked at Hannibal and saw that the man’s back was on him, shoulders square as he inspected what Will presumed to be the newly issued Kingsman tie-clip. “Silent treatment as usual. I like it. I wonder if you’ll blame me if one of these days I’ll act as if you don’t exist.”

Will heard Hannibal sigh, followed by a few soft clicks from where Hannibal was facing, before the man allowed himself to turn and face him. Hannibal skimmed his eyes from Will’s feet to his face, his cold exterior unchanging.

“Congratulations on passing the Kingsman training program, Agent Galahad.”

“Thank you,” he replied, offering him a drink to which Hannibal responded by turning his back around. Will only chuckled humorlessly. “Are you finally going to tell me why you recruited me?”

 _Why me?_ he remembered asking Hannibal immediately after he had been offered the program. The man was much more different, then. He was gracious enough to give Will at least a small smile, answered all his questions in the best way that he could, and was an overall decent person. Will sometimes wondered what had suddenly crawled up his ass and died the moment he had accepted Hannibal’s offer.

_If you pass the program, you will be the first one to know the answer. Are you on board?_

_You think I’ve got anything to lose?_

“You called for help,” Hannibal simply said without giving it a thought, putting each accessory to their rightful place in the concealed section of his suitcase, “I simply extended the invitation.”

Will scoffed, putting the whiskey back to where he got it and placing his glass on the empty space beside him on the sofa. “I can’t believe I worked my ass off for two years so I can hear that lousy explanation.”

Hannibal wheeled his head slightly to the right, enough to see Will through his periphery. Unlike him, Hannibal always had a cold, neutral expression that never betrayed what he was thinking. All of the former trainees bristled whenever the man had stared at them with his piercing brown eyes that seemed to look straight into one’s soul. He was a puzzle... one that Will found himself wanting to solve.

“Are you going to pack your accessories or are you going to laze around all day?” Hannibal asked pointedly as he closed his own suitcase. He knew that it was the man’s subtle way of telling him that their conversation was over.

Will grinned, standing up to reveal that the contents of his suitcase had already been arranged. “Way ahead of you, Agent Tristan.”

A look of amusement passed through Hannibal’s face, but it was gone before Will could even comment on it. The man turned and walked to the door without bothering to signal for Will to follow him. “Best wipe that smug grin off your face. The day hasn’t ended yet.”

Will rolled his eyes at the closing door then settling the briefcase back on the table rather harshly before drinking the untouched whiskey on the sofa that he was sitting on. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and glared at the shut door, trying to keep his temper down, before sighing in resignation.

Just when he thought they were making such great progress...

 

 

♘ ♘ ♘ ♘ ♘ ♘ ♚ ♘ ♘ ♘ ♘ ♘ ♘

 

 

 **LOCATION: CONFIDENTIAL **  
OPERATION CHRYSALIS 01 — 0928H

 

They passed the time in the waiting room, individually going over once more with their plan as they wait for the helicopter which would fly them to the Kingsman’s secret port in Kynance Cove where they were to board a submarine on the way to their mission. Will took the time to scan the file sent to them on their tablets, scrolling quietly without acknowledging the other man in the room, until he came across the section detailing their cover.

“We have to be in a _what_?”

Will reread the words ‘in a relationship’ on the tablet again and again until it made sense. It didn’t. He looked up to see Hannibal leaning against a display cabinet and watching him with disapproving eyes. “I distinctly remember you told Arthur that you had no further questions during the briefing yesterday. Did you not read the blueprint before you accepted this mission?”

He felt his own face burn at the question because, in truth, today was the first time he had read it. Just a few hours prior to his inauguration as an agent, Arthur had asked him to read a few paragraphs from the file to give him an idea of the risks that he would be forced to take just so the mission could be executed with ease. Should he accept, Arthur added, he would be partnered with Tristan.

Obviously, all rational thought flew off Will’s mind when he heard the latter part and as a result, he blindly accepted the mission, knowing that he could spend at least a few weeks infuriating the other agent with his presence.

“I did,” he lied through gritted teeth and glared at Hannibal for good measure, “and that part wasn’t included when I read the file.”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. “You’re still a bad liar.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Will asked, the controlled anger seeping out of his tone. Hannibal regarded him for a moment before he moved to sit on the empty space next to him with a sigh, a move that Will completely unexpected. The man would usually just lecture him about the importance of attitude whenever he snapped at him like that and then Hannibal would leave him to his own devices for the rest of the day.

“It means that we have to make a convincing cover. Are you sure you’re up for the task?” Hannibal took away the tablet from his lap and switched it off.

 _A convincing cover_ , the words echoed repeatedly in the layers of his brain. Will stopped himself from chuckling as the realization that Arthur had a different meaning of ‘partner’ suddenly popped up in his mind. He clenched his fist and opened it slowly, releasing a long breath along with it. Will responded calmly, “Are you?”

Hannibal tilted his head slightly to the right as if something was wrong with Will’s face. He saw a muscle twitch under the man’s left eye before Hannibal sat back with his arms outstretched on the couch’s backrest, almost touching Will’s shoulder with the tips of his fingers. The sudden change in the man’s entire demeanor may have caught him off-guard, but what followed rendered him speechless.

“You have some balls to ask me that, kid.”

Will gaped as he stared at Hannibal, shocked at the visible amusement on the man’s face. He must either be dreaming or maybe a microchip in the tablet must have messed something up in his brain because there was no way— _no way_ —that Hannibal was smiling at him after two whole years. Well, to be fair, it was more of a lopsided grin which probably meant that the man was mocking him, but Will still wanted to slap himself just to check whether he was dreaming or not.

Will couldn’t deny that a part of him was pleased to see that the smile was aimed at him, though.

“Galahad, now’s a bad time to get possessed. I can already hear the helicopter nearing overhead,” Hannibal quipped, the grin turned into something smaller and more friendly.

_Joking now? Who was this man again?_

Will closed his opened mouth and cleared his throat, trying to brush everything off as nothing out of the ordinary. He was pretty sure that Hannibal’s mood would change in a snap. “Look who’s talking, you’re the one here showing emotions when you’re not supposed to.”

“Convincing cover, remember?” Hannibal winked at him and stood up, carrying both of their suitcases away to meet the helicopter that had landed mere seconds ago.

Will stayed seated for a few seconds, watching as the man elegantly made his way outside as he processed what had just happened. He watched as the usually stoic man smile at the staff who helped him with the bags he was carrying.

Will snorted and shook his head.

If this was Hannibal’s idea of a convincing cover, then he didn’t have anything to protest about.

 

 

♘ ♘ ♘ ♘ ♘ ♘ ♚ ♘ ♘ ♘ ♘ ♘ ♘

 

 

 **28°18’26.9’’N 177°22’24.6’’W **  
OPERATION CHRYSALIS 01 — 1947H

 

Mason Verger’s underwater kingdom was more... ludicrous than he had imagined.

Located at exactly one hundred eighty nautical miles to the north of Midway Islands, twenty nautical miles short of going outside the exclusive economic zone of the United States, it was almost an underwater replica of the Bellagio in Las Vegas. It hovered at about a depth of four hundred feet below the surface, just enough for private submarines to get into, with a height of five hundred feet and a hectare in width.

The massive Bellagio Resort-like structure sat prettily in the middle of the Pacific—powered by Verger’s own prized hydrogen fuel to keep the whole structure still against the ocean’s powerful currents. The submarines’ entryway was a large, pressurized glass ring in the middle of the building that drained the excess water back into the ocean before the guests could go out of the hatch and be welcomed by a host.

Will wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. He knew the Palace was supposed to amaze him, intimidate him, yet all it reminded him of was Sandy Cheeks’ Treedome from SpongeBob SquarePants.

Will schooled his expression and pulled at the lapels of his black velvet suit as he got out of the hatch, running his cover over his head. His file simply said that his cover worked as a telescope mechanical engineer based in California for three months before he went on a vacation in London where he and his current ‘boyfriend’ met.

It sounded like a typical, lazy-written romantic comedy plot that was too cheesy for its own good.

As soon as he stepped on the floor of the hotel’s supposedly welcoming lobby, he adjusted his tortoiseshell Kingsman glasses and looked over to the person standing on his right, briefly assessing Hannibal’s choice of style as if he hadn’t been staring at the man throughout their entire journey.

For someone so used to Hannibal looking immaculate every day, Will didn’t realize that the man would look a lot better with just casual clothes. Even though the man’s cover included him being a Romanian-born billionaire who now operated his luxury tailoring house in London, Hannibal had his hair down while wearing a pair of washed jeans and a blue, custom-made half-sleeve shirt that had prints of dachshunds on it.

“Welcome to Muskrat Palace,” one host— _Cordell_ , it said on his nameplate—greeted them with an unsettlingly large smile. “Will you be checking in tonight, gentlemen?”

Rather than pointing out what an odd question it was, seeing as they were underwater, Will simply nodded and returned the courtesy. “Yes, thank you.”

“Right this way, please.”

Cordell, for all his creepy smile, managed to somehow flash more teeth as he led them to the reception desk where five receptionists were currently occupied with hotel guests. They were asked to stand a few feet behind the hotel guests that one of the receptionists was attending to, giving Will the time to scan the lobby.

His eyes briefly passed through the high ceilings that went on for five stories, painted with Michelangelo’s original uncensored paintings in the Sistine Chapel, and noted that the place looked more of a shopping mall instead of a vacation paradise.

Hannibal placed his left hand on the small of his back, prompting Will to return his eyes straight ahead. The man leaned in, his lips close enough for his breath to tickle Will’s ear, and whispered, “Is this okay?”

Will clenched his jaw, feeling the colors rise up to his cheeks as his ears heated up, but he looked over to Hannibal with an innocent smile, moving closer to the reception desk after the guests in front of them left.

“Of course, darling,” he replied, thankful that he had worn the Kingsman glasses to record the shock on Hannibal’s face. The moment was interrupted by a voice coming from the desk.

“Good evening. Welcome to Muskrat Palace. What can I do for you?”

Unlike Cordell, the receptionist who attended to them— _Margot_ —didn’t show the same enthusiasm at Hannibal and Will. If any, she looked bored and ready to bolt out of this place as soon as possible. Will knew Hannibal noticed it, too, judging by the tone of his voice and the sudden change in his expression. The man really had a great dislike for rude behavior.

“Good evening,” Hannibal greeted coldly. “Reservations under Nigel Lahovari, please.”

It was a minute detail, but Will caught the way Margot’s right eyebrow went up as she looked at their reservation details on her computer. She handed their room card with two hands with a forced smile plastered on her face and gestured for Cordell and another staff to get their luggage and accompany them to their room.

Instead of elevators, the hotel part of Verger’s palace was mostly with escalators that looked like moving staircases ripped off from a fantasy novel. It was to give the guests a magnificent view of the hotel and for all the rooms to have a window overlooking the ocean, Cordell explained to them on the way up. They hopped off at the topmost floor and walked in front of a wooden double door where a young man with spiked hair wearing glasses greeted them.

“Mr. Lahovari,” he said, approaching both of them, “we talked on the phone. It’s an honor to finally meet you.”

Hannibal stepped forward and extended a hand. “The pleasure’s all mine, Mr. Verger. This is Mr. Adam Raki.”

Verger looked at Will with a neutral expression, not extending the same warm welcome that he had shown the other man, and simply dipped his head in acknowledgment before returning his attention back to Hannibal. Will could practically see the mixture of admiration and dollar signs glinting in Verger’s eyes as he tried to continue chatting with Hannibal.

“I trust your trip went well?”

“Smooth as silk,” Hannibal answered with a smile. His partner’s left hand found its way to Will’s left shoulder, fingers tapping lightly on the fabric like they were deliberately trying to get Verger’s attention. _Convincing cover_ , Hannibal’s words echoed in Will’s mind, trying to justify why his right arm looped around Hannibal’s waist immediately as if by instinct.

He watched in amusement as understanding dawned on their host’s face and felt his own lips curl at the corners when Verger stepped aside and cleared his throat. “This is your presidential lounge. Enjoy your stay, Mr. Lahovari. Mr. Raki.”

“We know we will. Thank you for accommodating us, Mr. Verger,” Hannibal said graciously, leading Will into the room and shutting the door carefully after their luggage were taken inside their shared bedroom.

He was about to open his mouth when Hannibal gestured for him to keep quiet and led him upstairs to the bedroom where a massive bedframe sitting pristinely in the center against a wall supported a mattress that was twice as big as a traditional king-sized one. Hannibal motioned for him to wait and zip his mouth before proceeding to inspect every corner of the lounge, diligently rummaging the place but putting everything back into their original position. Finally, the man went back to where he left Will and hugged him tightly, a hand placed on the back of his head and another across his back.

Will stood there motionless, arms hanging on his sides awkwardly as he silently prayed that Hannibal couldn’t hear his heart hammering wildly against his chest. Before he could do anything about the situation, however, Hannibal buried his face on his neck and whispered, “This whole room’s bugged.”

“Merlin,” he managed to whisper back, voice almost faltering, “we’re in a situation.”

“On it,” a voice in their concealed earpieces replied after three beeps. It took Merlin a couple of seconds to track the recorders, but Will felt it took him hours. Merlin spoke again after a series of continued beeps. “There’s a total of four recorders in your lounge, all placed on the right corners of each room. Lucky for you, gentlemen, I know how to get into their system.”

“What’s the plan?” Hannibal asked.

“I’m going to install a software in your tie-clips that would disable the audio in your room and make it look like it was a malfunction. They will most likely send someone to check your room if they noticed, but they’re not monitoring your conversations in real time so it’s worth a shot. Oh, and always wear a tie-clip when you go out, Verger has recorders everywhere.”

“We will.”

Will released a breath that was a mixture of relief and content—relief because the threat was manageable and content because Hannibal’s body heat and the hand caressing his head was, in a weird way, soothing him.

“Sound is lost,” Merlin said and Will felt a soft vibration from the tie-clip that he was wearing. “One last note, there’s a camera installed in the long mirror. Remember that before you do anything in front of it. Good luck, agents.”

“Thank you, Merlin.”

The beeping stopped and they both stepped away from each other, taking out their earpieces as if nothing happened. He took a moment to look around the lounge. It had two floors, the living room on the first one and the bedroom on the second, with a spiral escalator connecting them. Except for the bedroom, which was maroon-themed and had a Victorian flair, the suite had a modern black and white interior design and the right walls were made with thick acrylic glass to give them an underwater view.

Will glanced warily at the long mirror which stood as the door for the walk-in closet. The way that it was positioned, overlooking the bed as if it was there to serve as Verger’s peeping device, made him sick.

“You’ve been awfully quiet the entire day,” Hannibal piped up from the other side of the room, carefully unpacking the clothes from his suitcase. “Are you all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Hannibal shrugged, plugging his ‘normal’ phone to a charging socket beside the flatscreen television. “Just thought you might uncomfortable with all the touching.”

Will raised a brow, surprised at the unusual concern coming from the man. They were playing a cover, yes, but that didn’t mean they had to truly immerse themselves in it. He must have missed something for Hannibal to be acting this way, he thought to himself.

“You don’t need to ask me when we’re making appearances, you know,” he stated, unsure why he was trying to make fun of Hannibal’s softness. “We’re trying to establish our covers. There’s no need to be coy.”

Hannibal stopped his movements and looked at him. Will had a brief moment of panic, wondering whether he crossed the line with what he said before a smile broke into the man’s face. Hannibal approached him and placed a hand on Will’s right cheek. “Thank you for letting me know, _darling_.”

Will felt his face heat up at the endearment, prompting him to remove Hannibal’s hand on his face before the man could feel it, and scowled at him. The man only chuckled and went to the clothes that he had unpacked moments ago. “As much as I enjoy watching you turn into an angry puppy, Galahad, you need to save that energy and go change. We have a poker game to catch.”

 

 

♘ ♘ ♘ ♘ ♘ ♘ ♚ ♘ ♘ ♘ ♘ ♘ ♘

 

 

Will sat on one of the wooden chairs amongst the audience, sipping on a ridiculous drink which Hannibal may or may not have made up, content to just familiarize himself with the room and the people around him. They were playing in the VIP Club card room, courtesy of having booked a presidential lounge, and tonight was specifically reserved for poker. He watched as Hannibal played with the chips on his hand, the way he would put two fingers on his temple when he was bluffing, and the intense looks that he was giving to the other players on the table.

“You play?”

Will looked to his right and saw a woman dressed in red sitting beside him. She wore her hair up, taking pride in showing her sharp jawline, and her lips were bloody red. She was beautiful. Will smiled at her and shook his head. “No, I just like to watch. You?”

“My skills are rusty, I’m afraid. It’s been a long time since I sat at a table,” the woman replied with a smile. She was even more beautiful when she smiled. “I’m Alana Bloom.”

“Adam Raki.”

Alana took a sip of her martini, bright blue eyes never leaving his, before nodding to the direction of the table, “Place your bets.”

“Man doing the Professor X hand,” Will said, amused. Hannibal was concentrating on his cards, probably unaware of the eyes staring at him. He was bluffing again, Will observed, but the people on the table didn’t know about that.

“Is he any good?” Alana asked.

“The best.”

Hannibal still had his fingers on his left temple, looking at the last remaining player on the table, and moved his chips carefully. “All in.”

The man across him retaliated by pushing his chips as well and going all in before revealing his cards. _Full house, kings and aces_. Will winced, wondering whether Hannibal had miscalculated his move. The poker host motioned for Hannibal to continue. His partner placed his cards on top of one another on the table, looking mildly disappointed at his decision, but his act wasn’t finished. Hannibal revealed the card under and smiled mischievously.

“It’s four checks. Mr. Lahovari wins.”

“Wow,” Alana noted, glancing at him with a raised brow. “Good call.”

“I told you.”

Someone cleared their throat in front of them, catching both of their attention. Hannibal had both of his hands in his pockets, looking remarkable as usual in his black suit which matched Will’s while his hair was tied messily into a bun. The man was smiling at him and Will felt his face heat up under his gaze. “Flirting while I’m away, gorgeous?”

Will simply rolled his eyes and gestured toward the lady sitting beside him, “Alana, this is Nigel. Nigel, this is Alana Bloom.”

Hannibal turned to Alana, unbuttoning his suit as he sat with them. He asked for the waiter to get him a similar drink to Will before finally acknowledging the woman, his mouth in a flat line. “I don’t think you’re aware that you’re talking to my man, Whiskey.”

Will threw him a confused look, mouth poised to ask him what he meant, but Alana beat him to it. She chuckled softly, taking out the olive picks out of her martini. “It hasn’t even been a week yet and you already have a wall around him.”

“Wait, _Whiskey_?” He asked, keeping his voice down low as his eyes traveled back and forth between the two. “You two know each other?”

“Statesman agent,” Hannibal answered nonchalantly, dismissing his question to focus on the woman beside Will. His partner paused the conversation for a moment as his drink was delivered and waited for the waiter to be out of earshot before nodding to Alana. “What are your orders, then?”

“Intel from the staff.”

“And?”

Alana grinned, her perfect white teeth dancing along with the lights in the room. She gave him a knowing look. “Don’t worry, Tristan. I’ve already wormed my way into Margot’s bed.”

“The receptionist?”

“She’s Verger’s sister,” the woman explained, draining the last of her martini in one fluid motion. “She wants him dead and I’m not going to leave her until she kills him.”

Hannibal looked impressed, raising his drink in her direction. “My dear Alana, you’ve grown.”

“You know I love a good finger-wagging,” Alana told Hannibal with a wink. She stood up and smiled at both of them. “Gentlemen.”

With that, Alana walked out of the card room, head raised high like she was walking out of a runway. Will remained silent for the rest of the night, politely excusing himself out of the conversations that Hannibal would get them both into. He could feel his partner’s concerned glances from afar throughout the entire time, probably noticing that something was off, but was too cautious to bring anything up. Will spent his alone-time looking around, trying to record as much as he could with his glasses while memorizing the faces of everyone who entered and left the VIP Club.

“All right,” Hannibal said after they had both changed into their sleepwear and were safe and sound in the confines of their bedroom. The man finished drying his hair with a towel and looked at him. “Spit it out. What’s wrong?”

Will stood from the bed at the same time Hannibal sat on the other side of it, his face concealed from Verger’s mirror. He sighed and shook his head, knowing that he would sound like a child who lost his favorite toy. “Nothing. It’s just... I thought this was _our_ mission, you know?”

“Kingsman’s still building its foundations, Galahad. We need all the help we can get from our brothers-in-arms,” Hannibal explained. “Don’t worry, Alana won’t interfere.”

“Do you trust them?”

“You know I don’t,” his partner answered with a small smile. “Especially not Alana.”

Will nodded, still standing awkwardly near the massive bed, he didn’t know whether to sit or stay still. “That’s her real name?”

“Some Statesman agents use their real names. They’re not required to wipe their traces off like we do.”

“Well, at least she’s on our side,” he replied with a shrug before walking toward the door leading downstairs. “You can take the bed for tonight. I’ll take the sofa.”

“No need,” Hannibal said, moving to sit properly on the mattress with his back against the headboard. The man patted the unoccupied space beside him. “The bed is massive and Verger will see us through that mirror. You can stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine.”

Will looked at Hannibal, then at the bed, then back to Hannibal again. “You sure?”

“Come here.”

He ignored the way his gut seemed to drop at Hannibal’s words as he climbed onto the bed, settling as far as possible from his partner. Will kept his back onto the man, eyes staring straight into the mirror that they were avoiding, and tried to summarize what happened on their first day. A few minutes passed before Hannibal decided to turn off the lights, mattress dipping with his weight when he returned. Will didn’t move, but he could feel the man’s breath from across the bed and the pair of eyes that seemed to dig at the back of his skull.

As Will tried to close his eyes and lull himself to sleep, however, he heard Hannibal’s voice—barely audible from his side of the bed.

“Good night, Will.”


End file.
